Where I've Been
I have so much I need to write about here ... the week I've had ... it's been outstanding. But I need to start with the trip I took, and come back to the rest of it later.
Wednesday
I took a little vacation all by myself. I left early on Wednesday, drove to the ferry terminal in Anacortes, and caught the noon ferry to Orcas Island. On Orcas, I drove all the way around the horseshoe of the island, to Doe Bay. Check in time at the Doe Bay Retreat wasn't until 3pm, so I killed time in the tiny village of Olga. By the time I got to Olga, I had already long since passed out of the range of cell phone coverage, where I spent most of my time on the island. In Olga, I went to a pottery studio (I love pottery) and bought a beautiful bowl, and I went to the Olga Store and bought a peanut butter sandwich. I also walked around and looked at the compact, yet delicate mule deer who wander freely around the east half of Orcas Island.
The main reason for this trip was to take a little time, while I had it between jobs, and go somewhere ... but I haven't been able to squeeze in a big trip. But I also really wanted to take some time alone, to hear my own thoughts and to figure out where my choices were coming from ... if they were coming from within me, or without. And I wanted remove the distractions of daily life so I could write a little. Doe Bay resort was a really good option for that, especially mid-week in October. It was quiet. When I checked in, I was one of maybe six guests. I stayed in the "Hostel" and for the first night, I had the place to myself.
I know I'm not going to be able to tell this whole story. There was too much. I spent so much time in my head and in my notebook, but even the things I wrote down are jumbled.
Anyway, the first night I spent a lot of time at the hot spring soaking tubs and sauna area. Clothing optional, but no one seemed to opt for it in that area. Sitting on the edge of a soaking tub, under the trees and looking out over the bay, I felt free and conflicted. I wrote so much while I was there ... outside, naked, exposed, and alone. I wasn't scared, but I wavered back and forth between feeling free and feeling horribly lonely. I guess that was part of what I wanted to face. Could I relax and enjoy myself on my own couple hours away from my community, without fleeing toward home. I took a while. There was no TV. No phones. I could check my email in one area of the Retreat, but I tried to resist that as well. I opted to be alone in the wilderness, among strangers, to try to hear my own voice. But there were serveral moments when the reality that I could take the next ferry and be at home, with all it's distractions, was very tempting.
I wrote a lot that first night. I outlined my novel for Nanowrimo, should I decide to do it this year. It's a story I really want to write, but don't know if I ever will have the will power to get it all out. I also wrote a lot of half pages of my thoughts and impressions. The wilderness and quiet was as inspiring as it was unsettling.
Thursday
On my first morning it was really cold. I took a hot shower and bundled myself up. I made a wonderful breakfast in the guest kitchen, eggs with sauted onions and cheddar, soy breakfast sausage, and a nectarine, with local-roasted coffee and milk. I sat with my breakfast at the edge of the cliffs looking southeast over the Puget Sound and loving my life and my home in Washington. After breakfast I had a massage which may be a little self-indulgent, but that's sort of what this trip was all about. The massage was in a little cabin called Saraswati. The masseuse was excellent and friendly. Afterwards, we stood on the cabin's porch and talked, mainly about animals ... dogs and cats we'd loved, deer and bunnies and birds on the island.
Afterwards, I took a little hike in Moran State Park. I hiked up to the Little Summit of Mount Constitution. On the way up, I met some weird little black squirrels who's calls sounded like lazer guns from old scifi movies. I also met a buck who appeared to be curious about me, but not scared of me. When I reached the Little Summit, it started sleeting, so I decided not to continue my hike. On the way down, I decided to go to the San Juan Winery Tasting Room instead. Warm ... inside ... wine ......
The winery was nice. The guy running the winery was a crazy old island coot, and we talked about the connection between humans and nature and art, and I bought two bottles of wine.
Seattle friends: I bought an amazing bottle of desert wine from Spokane. It's Cabernet Sauvignon grapes, fortified with brandy, and infused with vanilla bean. It's amazing, and I want to share it sometime soon.
I ate a lovely late lunch at the Olga Cafe and talked to more crazy old islanders. Then returned to Doe Bay, for the soaking tubs and the sauna and the little beach. That evening, I sat on the edge of the cliffs over looking the Sound, and I saw a pack of otters. They were the first otters I'd seen in the wild and there was a whole pack of them... about seven. They crossed the bay, diving and yelling at seagulls with gruff, high-pitched dog barks. They were so cute.
That evening, the cafe at Doe Bay had its regular Thursday night pizza and open mic night. The pizzas were good, creative and tasty and vegetarian-friendly, the wine was fantastic, and locals from all over the east side of island came out with guitars and an odd assortment of instruments came out and played. Some of the few guests brought instruments, too. I wrote a lot that night too, while watching islanders play folk and blues and hippie tunes. The scene, a warm, familiar community of hippies and old codgers and musicians and music lovers who came to listen or dance, young parents with babies, college-aged kids, families, old people, was more like the part of my upbringing in southern Illinois that I loved than anything I’ve encountered since moving to the west coast. It felt like home. Not necessarily the home that I want for myself now, but a home that I can’t deny is part of me. Rural, familiar, friendly … the old man who drummed on a wood box with a hole in it, keeping time for the other musicians, could have played at my parents’ coffee shop. They all could have been there, back when there was a there to be.
I went to bed that night feeling the relaxation I’d been looking for. I’d filled at least 20 pages of my notebook with thoughts and reflections; I’d talked to strangers and shared ideas with them.
Friday
I got up on Friday morning and it was a little bit warmer and a lot clearer than Thursday had been. I ate instant oatmeal and an orange and drank coffee by the water’s edge again, and made one last visit to the clothing optional area. After I checked out, I headed back toward the west end of the island. I turned at a sign that I’d passed several times that read “Eat More Clams.” The woman who ran Buck Bay Oysters and Clams showed me around her operation, showed me where the shellfish were caught, in the bay about 50 feet from us, and showed me how she humanely cleaned and sorted the shellfish, keeping them in a flowing bath of water from the bay. I bought a pound of clams for $5.
I drove back to Moran State Park and hiked around Mountain Lake. It was a four mile hike, and I saw osprey circling above a stream where it flowed out of the lake and down the mountain. The hike was beautiful, and I stopped at one point to write a little about how impossible it is to capture the beauty around us. I can’t describe it, pictures don’t do it justice, I simply have to absorb as much of it as I can and keep it for myself. At one point along the trail, I met a couple with a beautiful red dog. The warned me that he was wet and would want to lean on me if I was too friendly. After they’d passed me on the trail I was overwhelmed with memories of Riley. When he was wet, he’d love to get toweled off. He’d press his face into the towel and wriggle his way though, and when I worked the towel down to his tail, he’d circle back around to get into it again. And it reminded me of his last day, when I pressed my face into his fur that was wet from the rain and tried to imagine a life without being able to smell his sweet scent or feel his warm fur. I stood alone on that mostly empty trail and hugged myself and sobbed until it passed and I could enjoy the warmth of the sunshine and the beauty of the trail again. I think part of my reason for taking a trip like this alone may be because I can’t take this trip with Riley. Our last trip to Orcas was all three of us, and I guess, in a way, I needed to mark his absence in more external parts of life.
Anyway, after the hike, I drove to the top of the mountain and looked out at Mount Baker and the other San Juan Islands and the Olympic Mountains and into Canada. I ate a nice, late lunch back in the town of Eastsound, then caught the 5:10 ferry back to the mainland. As many vacation end, I feel sad that they’re over and hesitant to go home. This time, though, we a cooler full of clams for dinner and Ray at the end of my journey, I was excited to get there … though I can’t wait to go back. I can highly recommend Doe Bay Retreat. I intend to go back there. It was affordable and peaceful. I’ve wanted to try Breitenbush in Oregon for a long time, but it can wait now that I’ve found Doe Bay.
After a long weekend of reflection, I find the thoughts still flowing pretty freely out of me, on to the page. Things are a bit jumbled, but that’s what I get for doing this alone; for hanging out in my own thoughts for so long. I’d do it again. I enjoyed myself, but honestly, I think it’s possible that I do a better job of finding out my own voice and my own truths when I have another soul to bounce them off of. There is a balance to be reached between holding on to yourself and growing with someone.
By the way, I steamed the clams with garlic and parsley and white wine and olive oil, and served them with whole wheat spaghetti, and they were the best clams I’ve ever had.
Wednesday
I took a little vacation all by myself. I left early on Wednesday, drove to the ferry terminal in Anacortes, and caught the noon ferry to Orcas Island. On Orcas, I drove all the way around the horseshoe of the island, to Doe Bay. Check in time at the Doe Bay Retreat wasn't until 3pm, so I killed time in the tiny village of Olga. By the time I got to Olga, I had already long since passed out of the range of cell phone coverage, where I spent most of my time on the island. In Olga, I went to a pottery studio (I love pottery) and bought a beautiful bowl, and I went to the Olga Store and bought a peanut butter sandwich. I also walked around and looked at the compact, yet delicate mule deer who wander freely around the east half of Orcas Island.
The main reason for this trip was to take a little time, while I had it between jobs, and go somewhere ... but I haven't been able to squeeze in a big trip. But I also really wanted to take some time alone, to hear my own thoughts and to figure out where my choices were coming from ... if they were coming from within me, or without. And I wanted remove the distractions of daily life so I could write a little. Doe Bay resort was a really good option for that, especially mid-week in October. It was quiet. When I checked in, I was one of maybe six guests. I stayed in the "Hostel" and for the first night, I had the place to myself.
I know I'm not going to be able to tell this whole story. There was too much. I spent so much time in my head and in my notebook, but even the things I wrote down are jumbled.
Anyway, the first night I spent a lot of time at the hot spring soaking tubs and sauna area. Clothing optional, but no one seemed to opt for it in that area. Sitting on the edge of a soaking tub, under the trees and looking out over the bay, I felt free and conflicted. I wrote so much while I was there ... outside, naked, exposed, and alone. I wasn't scared, but I wavered back and forth between feeling free and feeling horribly lonely. I guess that was part of what I wanted to face. Could I relax and enjoy myself on my own couple hours away from my community, without fleeing toward home. I took a while. There was no TV. No phones. I could check my email in one area of the Retreat, but I tried to resist that as well. I opted to be alone in the wilderness, among strangers, to try to hear my own voice. But there were serveral moments when the reality that I could take the next ferry and be at home, with all it's distractions, was very tempting.
I wrote a lot that first night. I outlined my novel for Nanowrimo, should I decide to do it this year. It's a story I really want to write, but don't know if I ever will have the will power to get it all out. I also wrote a lot of half pages of my thoughts and impressions. The wilderness and quiet was as inspiring as it was unsettling.
Thursday
On my first morning it was really cold. I took a hot shower and bundled myself up. I made a wonderful breakfast in the guest kitchen, eggs with sauted onions and cheddar, soy breakfast sausage, and a nectarine, with local-roasted coffee and milk. I sat with my breakfast at the edge of the cliffs looking southeast over the Puget Sound and loving my life and my home in Washington. After breakfast I had a massage which may be a little self-indulgent, but that's sort of what this trip was all about. The massage was in a little cabin called Saraswati. The masseuse was excellent and friendly. Afterwards, we stood on the cabin's porch and talked, mainly about animals ... dogs and cats we'd loved, deer and bunnies and birds on the island.
Afterwards, I took a little hike in Moran State Park. I hiked up to the Little Summit of Mount Constitution. On the way up, I met some weird little black squirrels who's calls sounded like lazer guns from old scifi movies. I also met a buck who appeared to be curious about me, but not scared of me. When I reached the Little Summit, it started sleeting, so I decided not to continue my hike. On the way down, I decided to go to the San Juan Winery Tasting Room instead. Warm ... inside ... wine ......
The winery was nice. The guy running the winery was a crazy old island coot, and we talked about the connection between humans and nature and art, and I bought two bottles of wine.
Seattle friends: I bought an amazing bottle of desert wine from Spokane. It's Cabernet Sauvignon grapes, fortified with brandy, and infused with vanilla bean. It's amazing, and I want to share it sometime soon.
I ate a lovely late lunch at the Olga Cafe and talked to more crazy old islanders. Then returned to Doe Bay, for the soaking tubs and the sauna and the little beach. That evening, I sat on the edge of the cliffs over looking the Sound, and I saw a pack of otters. They were the first otters I'd seen in the wild and there was a whole pack of them... about seven. They crossed the bay, diving and yelling at seagulls with gruff, high-pitched dog barks. They were so cute.
That evening, the cafe at Doe Bay had its regular Thursday night pizza and open mic night. The pizzas were good, creative and tasty and vegetarian-friendly, the wine was fantastic, and locals from all over the east side of island came out with guitars and an odd assortment of instruments came out and played. Some of the few guests brought instruments, too. I wrote a lot that night too, while watching islanders play folk and blues and hippie tunes. The scene, a warm, familiar community of hippies and old codgers and musicians and music lovers who came to listen or dance, young parents with babies, college-aged kids, families, old people, was more like the part of my upbringing in southern Illinois that I loved than anything I’ve encountered since moving to the west coast. It felt like home. Not necessarily the home that I want for myself now, but a home that I can’t deny is part of me. Rural, familiar, friendly … the old man who drummed on a wood box with a hole in it, keeping time for the other musicians, could have played at my parents’ coffee shop. They all could have been there, back when there was a there to be.
I went to bed that night feeling the relaxation I’d been looking for. I’d filled at least 20 pages of my notebook with thoughts and reflections; I’d talked to strangers and shared ideas with them.
Friday
I got up on Friday morning and it was a little bit warmer and a lot clearer than Thursday had been. I ate instant oatmeal and an orange and drank coffee by the water’s edge again, and made one last visit to the clothing optional area. After I checked out, I headed back toward the west end of the island. I turned at a sign that I’d passed several times that read “Eat More Clams.” The woman who ran Buck Bay Oysters and Clams showed me around her operation, showed me where the shellfish were caught, in the bay about 50 feet from us, and showed me how she humanely cleaned and sorted the shellfish, keeping them in a flowing bath of water from the bay. I bought a pound of clams for $5.
I drove back to Moran State Park and hiked around Mountain Lake. It was a four mile hike, and I saw osprey circling above a stream where it flowed out of the lake and down the mountain. The hike was beautiful, and I stopped at one point to write a little about how impossible it is to capture the beauty around us. I can’t describe it, pictures don’t do it justice, I simply have to absorb as much of it as I can and keep it for myself. At one point along the trail, I met a couple with a beautiful red dog. The warned me that he was wet and would want to lean on me if I was too friendly. After they’d passed me on the trail I was overwhelmed with memories of Riley. When he was wet, he’d love to get toweled off. He’d press his face into the towel and wriggle his way though, and when I worked the towel down to his tail, he’d circle back around to get into it again. And it reminded me of his last day, when I pressed my face into his fur that was wet from the rain and tried to imagine a life without being able to smell his sweet scent or feel his warm fur. I stood alone on that mostly empty trail and hugged myself and sobbed until it passed and I could enjoy the warmth of the sunshine and the beauty of the trail again. I think part of my reason for taking a trip like this alone may be because I can’t take this trip with Riley. Our last trip to Orcas was all three of us, and I guess, in a way, I needed to mark his absence in more external parts of life.
Anyway, after the hike, I drove to the top of the mountain and looked out at Mount Baker and the other San Juan Islands and the Olympic Mountains and into Canada. I ate a nice, late lunch back in the town of Eastsound, then caught the 5:10 ferry back to the mainland. As many vacation end, I feel sad that they’re over and hesitant to go home. This time, though, we a cooler full of clams for dinner and Ray at the end of my journey, I was excited to get there … though I can’t wait to go back. I can highly recommend Doe Bay Retreat. I intend to go back there. It was affordable and peaceful. I’ve wanted to try Breitenbush in Oregon for a long time, but it can wait now that I’ve found Doe Bay.
After a long weekend of reflection, I find the thoughts still flowing pretty freely out of me, on to the page. Things are a bit jumbled, but that’s what I get for doing this alone; for hanging out in my own thoughts for so long. I’d do it again. I enjoyed myself, but honestly, I think it’s possible that I do a better job of finding out my own voice and my own truths when I have another soul to bounce them off of. There is a balance to be reached between holding on to yourself and growing with someone.
By the way, I steamed the clams with garlic and parsley and white wine and olive oil, and served them with whole wheat spaghetti, and they were the best clams I’ve ever had.